Mirror, Mirror
by Judge the Worthy
Summary: Kylo Ren's thoughts on seeing his new face for the first time.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Star Wars.**

 **This will be a multi-shot similar to my other works, Ghosts in the Tower and The Human Element, written to add a little more depth to the character with the most wasted potential of all time.**

The medical droid had just discharged him from the infirmary.

He'd been ready to leave three hours ago.

Kylo Ren would never admit to anyone the morbid curiosity he currently felt: a strange desire to see what had become of Ben Solo's face. Hawkish features with pale skin finally healed of their injuries. Or so the droid had claimed. He wanted and needed to know and see for himself.

Passing an officer, Kylo sensed the man shudder as he brushed past. Of course, the mask he currently wears has no real expression. It was designed to evoke emotion in others, not display his own. It elicits fear from these sycophants, and their fear brings him satisfaction. Their terror when staring at the unknown, wondering what kind of monster could be behind the helmet, gave him strength.

The joy it fills him with is almost paradoxical. Kylo knew how frightening he appeared with the mask on, but it would always be different for him because he would never be the one seeing the black face staring down at him. It would always be his face behind the mask.

His pace quickened, increasingly eager to return to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Star Wars.**

 **A short interconnected drabble series written to expand on the absolute best character Disney has created who would make Shakespeare applaud were the Bard still capable of clapping. _[Series of massive explosions.]_ Oh sorry, that was my sarcasm meter. It just combusted several times. Feel free to ignore that and just read on.**

The door opened with a soft hiss, its polished surface as black as his mask. Stepping in, the door closed behind him, leaving Kylo inside the dark chamber. Like a tear in the fabric of space, black covered everything within, making the room feel larger than it actually was.

He liked the feeling of being trapped in the void with nothing separating him but the mask.

A thin layer of dust covered his mirror. It hadn't been touched in days, but now Kylo's hands trail its edge. The sensation of his fingertips was dulled by the pads in the leather of his gloves. There was resistance, but only for a moment. The film is wiped away like smoke with an audible whish.

The moment the eyes of him and his reflection make contact, he fumbles at the release just under the back of the helmet. His hands reach back, looking for purchase to pull off the mask. He avoids looking into the mirror until he's done, when he can feel cold recycled air on his skin and his vision is pure and unaltered.

With a soft snap, he pulls the dome off, feeling lighter but greatly diminished. Kylo pulled off the gloves, tossing them onto his spartan bed along with the mask. The air is so clean is almost stings the astringents still drying on his face. Reaching up to gingerly wipe the naked flesh, he stared at the mask before turning to the mirror.

Kylo Ren and Ben Solo gazed upon one another for the first time in five days.


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Star Wars.**

 **If I did, we'd have people who understand how the motifs and themes of this beloved franchise actually function in charge at Lucasarts. On that note, try and count all the different consequences and behaviors associated with using the Dark Side I've crammed into this chapter.**

The first emotion he feels is shock, trapping him in place as he stands and stares at the reflective surface.

This… this is his face? That's _his_ pale, scarred, and sagging skin? Those malevolent eyes glaring back at him are _his_?

His fingers and a reflexive twitch in the mirrored facial muscles confirm what his eyes are telling him. He can't believe it. It can't be real. He sees himself, but doesn't recognize what gazes back. _[1]_

It's _his_ face in the mirror. Those are _his_ scars. The sallow, pasty skin is his. Even the wicked looking eyes are his.

He realized that the cold he thought was just air was not the air at all. It was Kylo himself creating the chill in the room, the dark side swirling around him so intensely that his brain can not block out the information his senses are processing. _[2]_

The second feeling he experiences is rage.

It boils from within, starting in his gut then welling upwards into a howl that would make even Snoke pause in fear.

It courses through his veins like shards of ice, tearing through his blood and making his vision blur. Kylo won't cry - he is a Knight and Master of Ren now, not some simpering Padawan - but his fury would be better released through his tears if he'd have allowed it.

Kylo thinks of the girl, Rey. He's drugged by a sudden desire to find her and tear her eyes out. To strike at her soft, beautiful face with a saber and repay the scars she gave him. To beat her into the dirt and carve out her heart, choking her throat with the Force as her pretty eyes fade into nothingness. To set her on fire and light a torch, watching her body burn like his grandfather's, only she'll be alive to experience the agony. To make her scream his name before she dies like the upstart dog she is. _[3]_

He focuses on the mirror again, hot fury turning cold.

Before he can even think about it, he punches the mirror, shattering it, the sound of breaking glass filling his ear drums as sharp fragments fly and fall to scatter across the floor.

This is her fault. She's ruined everything. What was pleasant is now sickening. What was once handsome is now hideous. She mangled him, and he will make her regret that.

Just as he regrets killing his father.

No, Kylo will not think of Han. He swears to himself that Solo's fate will never cross his mind again. He pushes all thoughts of him away. He's gone, part of a dead boy's life. He's already suffered for his sins, but the girl has yet to fulfill the debt she owes him.

Soon, she will know his wrath, and it will be as cold as the Force swirling through the veins behind his ruined flesh. _[4]_

Kylo braces his hands on the desk and closes his eyes. He spends the next minute remembering to breathe, the sound the only life in the room. He is not Ben Solo. His name, his history, his features… They mean nothing to Kylo Ren. What he's seeing reflected in the mirror is an illusion. A trick of the light. Lying there by his gloves on the bed is his real face, a polished helm of emotionless death. That is who he is.

 **Author Notes:**

 **[1] "And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee." _(_** _ **Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil.)**_

 **[2] The Dark Side is heavily associated with the feeling of cold. Besides Luke mentioning it on Dagobah before entering the Dark Side Cave _(Another thing RJ completely rips off and butchers in TLJ.)_ we also have Rebels to confirm this. **

**[3] This bit was written specifically because I'm sick to death of Reylo. I'm only half sorry to say this, but it's a stupid pairing. She saw him murder his own father in cold blood, then he assaulted her friend before putting him in a coma, and finally proceeded to try and kill her! _(And people say Padme was crazy for staying with Anakin after he admitted to slaughtering an entire Tusken Raider tribe.)_ Not to mention the fact that she cut his freaking face up and was fully prepared to kill him at the end of their duel. But apparently one little shirtless scene is all it takes for Rey to go ga-ga over him and drop all of that. _(BLEGH!)_ Even so, I had to go to a really dark place to write this paragraph. _(I may or may not need to seek counseling for my Star Wars addiction.)_**

 **[4] I actually had to change the rating on this story from K+ to T because of how… well, disturbed, parts of this chapter played out. Go me.**


End file.
